Pookastone Scowle the run and the go.

Open for one or two.

The air here was foul. It stank. It wasn’t just the season – it was death. Which was not, exactly, a literal thing, but a place changed when a wolf died. Was killed. That she never visited Desideria’s grave bit at her, now, wondering if she should have. Crow skittered around the borders of the Scowle, never sure if she wanted in, if she wanted out. Heat still raged through her, a never ending fire…

But it itched less than her wandering paws.

Hurt less than her wondering mind.

Pack life, she was starting to think, was a horrible, awful idea. She sat on the pack borders and stared out. If she left… If she left, no one would even know she was gone.

He didn’t like how heavy it felt in the Scowle.

In fact, he didn’t really like the place at all. The lagoon wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t Torbine. The silver boy didn’t understand why his mother had chosen to settle here of all places. He didn’t get the appeal. Especially now, after he and Bojay had discovered the frozen body of Maeve. Now he disliked the place even more.

His paws dragged over the cold, snow-dusted ground as he meandered toward the edge of the territory, a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth. He worried for his older brother and debated checking in on him—he had been rather close with the silver girl. Closer than Sterling had been. But he also didn’t want to smother, or bombard, him. He made a mental note to check on him later; maybe he’d find something in the forest to help lift his spirits.

His nose wrinkled as the scent of another alerted him of their presence. One of the smelly female’s from the pack. One he did not recognize.

Y’gonna leave? He asked as he approached, careful to maintain his distance from her. She looked so odd sitting at the edge of the Pookastone borders, staring out into the abyss like a loonie… 

mature language - most of sterling's posts will include mature language

“….may-be. What’s it t’ya?”

It was one of the twerps. She knew by the sound alone – the pretty, pretty princess. Morganna had recruited her to teach the children, after all…even if a solid 0% of them had any interest in being trained. Some of them weren’t even Morganna’s kin (and Crow wasn’t sure if she was supposed to chase after those ones), but those that were, well… Bojay wasn’t her favorite. And this one wasn’t much better.

Namir glanced back over at him, wondering why he had decided he’d find her now. Still too young to be interested in her that way…so at least she was safe. The wolf blew out a hard breath. “Y’thinkin’ a’ runnin, kid?”

He shrugged in response, giving her an indifferent flick of his nose. He didn’t care if she wanted to leave—it was none of his business. There were too many wolves around here anyway; it was likely that her presence wouldn’t be missed. Sterling didn’t even know her name, or care to learn it. He barely knew the names of any of his packmates—unless they were family or had accompanied the Archer children north from Torbine. Don’t really care, he added, a frown creasing his pale features as he studied the tawny female, just curious. If he was being honest.

Her next question earned a curious expression from the boy. Was he thinking of leaving? Sometimes. More so now than he had been before. But he worried for his brother, Bojay, as Maeve’s death had hit him hard. Out of all of his siblings Sterling was closest to his exuberant brother. He didn’t want to leave him so soon aftter discovering the silver female’s body… he’d only imagine the downward spiral his brother would fall into. Sometimes. He motioned to the expanse of land beyond the Pookastone borders: Is it any better?

mature language - most of sterling's posts will include mature language

Shallow water has trapped several fish in a small pond. Hunt Opportunity

“Yeah. It is.”

Crow said it without hesitation or a second thought. Even after the words escaped, she didn’t regret them. She knew, without a doubt, life alone was better than this. There was probably some perks to living with a pack – after all, most of the wolves she’d met did it – but whatever it was, she couldn’t put a paw on it. Crow’s Crossing wasn’t for her. Frankly, she didn’t think Pookastone Scowle was, either. She was supposed to ‘mind the kids’ but none of them wanted to learn, and Morganna really hadn’t been present in her life since joining. Not beyond ‘omnipresent overlord’, at any rate.

She glanced back over at Sterling, studying him. “Yer old enough t’disperse, if y’want. I won’t tell.” Considered for a moment. “Was prolly ‘bout yer age when I left th’ pack I was born in, come t’think. Never did regret it.”

It felt so long ago.

Yeah. It is. He hummed thoughtfully to himself, his expression remaining neutral as he observed the coyote-like stranger. If it was so much better then why had she chosen to join a pack? The question hung on the tip of his tongue but he quickly swallowed it; she didn’t look like the type to share her feelings. And, truthfully, the pale Archer didn't give a shit. He was just being nosey; acquiring information was one of his favourite hobbies.

It appeared the girl was actually encouraging him to leave the Scowle behind. The thought was tempting. To see what else was out there, beyond the south. Sure, he was with family in the Scowle, but did that mean he had to stay? He had thought of making his way back to Torbine but he wasn’t sure that was the best course of action. They had spent weeks travelling to reach the lands of Lore; did he want to leave them so soon?

Yeah, yeah, he mumbled in response, his tail flicking dismissively behind him, I’m still thinking about it. Was he? You going anywhere in particular? He asked, his youth showing with his bold curiosity. He didn’t know if he could leave now, so soon after discovering Maeve, but it was possible that he would flirt with the idea in the future. Once the dust had settled.

The pack was so big… would anyone even miss him? How long would it take for them notice?

mature language - most of sterling's posts will include mature language

“Well y’keep thinkin’ an’ yer gonna be ol’ an’ fat like yer Mama before y’know it. Age’s a bitch.”

So was pup-bearing, but Sterling wouldn’t have that problem. (And neither would Namir, thank you very much.) She huffed a heavy sigh, amber eyes tracing distant shapes – there was no horizon, not here. She did miss that (as much as she missed anything out at Crow’s Crossing)… Well, no. She did miss the heat, and that was real. She did miss being able to do what she was good at and being offered some form of protection.

“Iunno. My friend lives on th’ mountain. Never beeon one a’ those. Maybe I’ll see her. Or maybe ‘ll go back south, where I belong. With lobo and coyote and curevo.” She sighed softly, like all of those things were actually good. But there was something about the bad and unwanted that always spoke to her. “Or maybe not. Iunno. Ain’t got a good reason t’stay though.”

Pack Leadership 101: Make sure your members will actually be worse off without you. Frankly, Namir thought it was obvious.